Goodbye, Gilbert Grissom
by sweet-surrender5
Summary: GSR, oneshot. Grissom finishes his last shift at CSI and heads home to find an understanding Sara at home, waiting. Goodbye, Gil. Rated T.


a/n: Thanks to all who have supported my fanfic writing in the past -- I've been away for a while, I know. I've been working on some original work of mine, and recently finished a novel for NaNoWriMo '08. I just felt that the end of GSR deserved a final send-off. Anyway, I hope you like it, and comments would be appreciated, as always. (Unbeta'd, by the way. All mistakes are mine.) This is deticated to Jorja Fox and William Petersen, who have inspired me with their excellent chemistry to start a career in writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertainging to CBS or CSI...except a love for the show.

* * *

The sun shone down – oblivious, as always – on the city below, blissfully setting the darkness of Vegas in a happy orange glow. It smiled gently on my face as I slid through the glass doors to the outside world. Into the daytime. Into the light. Out of my life.

I stopped a few feet outside, took a deep breath, looked around. I'm not quite sure what I had been expecting. I don't know. I think some deep, subconscious, irrational part of me had actually expected everything to stop the minute I left for the last time.

It didn't.

Cruisers gunned unto the parking lot, the bottoms of the bumpers skidding as per usual on the steep upgrade. Incessant mothers shouted at beat cops on the sidewalks. Men in suits with fake faces walked with purpose past me and into the building. People came. People went. Time kept on going. Crime kept on happening.

I stood still, although time did not.

I would no longer be catching the bad guys. They'd go on living their wretched lives, if someone else wasn't there to do my job. I was wholly, fully, completely…helpless.

"Hey!"

Jolted out of my thoughts, I turned at the sound of the familiar Jersey bark.

"You finally going?" Jim asked. Over his shoulder, I could see two uniforms fighting to restrain a guy in a bloody wife beater. My eyes slid back to Brass.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm leaving."

He clapped a thick hand on my shoulder.

"Finally hit ya, didn't it?"

I bit the inside of my lip and looked up to the mountains, where the promises of a refreshing new start lay.

"I think so, Jim. I think so. But it's gotta be now. Now or never, right?" I looked back to him and he patted my shoulder once more. The three men were still struggling along the sidewalk behind him.

"Hey, _carpe diem. _Seize the day," Brass replied, the sounds of the officers and perp starting to muffle his voice, "but speaking of seizures, this guy's in on a drug bust and I gotta run."

Even Jim Brass goes on.

"Goodbye, Jim."

"Bye," he said, walking past me. I started towards my car, keys in hand.

"— and Gil!" I turned to see him walking backwards towards the doors, "I'll see you around, eh?"

We both knew that was probably quite unlikely. I give him one last nod. And I slid into my car knowing that that was the last time I would ever be finishing a shift at CSI.

I guided the Mercedes out of the city core and into the suburbs, highways fading into residential streets as I neared Henderson. I barely glimpsed at anything on the way home. I knew that drive like the back of my hand; each neon sign, each sandwich board, each diner, each house, each lamppost. But none of it interested me that day. No, I just wanted to be home.

Bruno was in the backyard as I pulled in. I could see him between the iron wrought fence posts, stubby tail wagging and paws up on the side of the house. He barked twice, seeming to smile.

"Down, boy," I called to him, walking up the stairs to the front door.

I ached inside. I really did.

But it felt good, I suppose. I felt a certain peace fall over me, knowing that I had left behind a legacy that would keep going to bring down the bad in Vegas. But I knew I was ending a chapter in my life; a long, rocky chapter of ups and downs, of tragedies and triumphs, challenges and failures. It was finally over. And as hard as it was, I knew I'd miss it.

I pushed open the door with a sigh, stepping into the relief of cool air and comfort. I shut it quietly behind me and let myself lean heavily against it.

"Tough shift?"

A musical voice floated up to me from the kitchen, along with the soft strains of something acoustic on the stereo. I slipped off my shoes and set down my briefcase, heading for the railing.

I leaned my forearms on it, seeing Sara down at the breakfast island, sipping tea and reading. She held her mug up and wiggled it slightly.

"You want one? I bought Chai…"

Her hair was shorter these days, laying in soft curls around her angelic face. She was more tan, too, after her trip to the Galapagos. She looked good. Really good. I don't know if the same could be said about me.

I shook my head before letting it fall, my chin hitting my chest lightly. I let out a long breath.

"Gil."

My name was soft and gentle upon her lips. I raised my eyes to meet hers.

"Come here."

I bit the inside of my lip for a moment, just watching her. It had been so long since we'd spent this much time together. I had missed her while she was gone. I had missed having someone to finally talk to, someone to finally hold at night. It was like she showed me this wonderful new life and then took it all away.

I almost chuckled at my thoughts.

Now, where had I heard that phrase before?

She got up and started towards the bottom of the stairs, where she met me with her arms open wide. I fell into them, pulling her tightly against me, burying my face into her hair. We swayed back and forth for a while like this, until I finally relaxed and sat my chin upon her shoulders. My arms were locked around the small of her back.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"Hm?"

"You," I said, "it was you who ordered the cake."

Her fingers toyed with my collar.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I said that when I left there'd be no cake in the break room."

"You did?"

"Mm. And I bet you're the only one who remembered."

"And why would that be?" She laughed quietly, pressing her mouth to my neck.

"Because I'm fairly sure you follow me around with a tape recorder."

She hummed against my skin, nuzzling her nose into the crook of my ear.

"Thank you," I said, taking a deep breath of her natural scent – like vanilla and citrus. "I would have saved you a piece, but I think Greg pilfered most of it away by the time I got around to the table."

I heard her chuckle once, and she pulled away.

"Seriously though," Sara said, her hands sliding to my shoulders, "are you okay?"

I stared into her eyes until it hurt. The ache grew stronger, eating away at my gut, pulling at my mouth with unseen gravity. I felt my eyebrow twitch. She held my gaze, her eyes flitting from my right to my left, blue meeting brown in an unspoken conversation.

Then, because I didn't know quite what else to do, I kissed her.

My hands found her jaw, pulling her face close to mine as our lips met. I could taste the spice of the tea on her lips; feel the heat of it against my mouth.

I never do really remember exactly what happens when Sara and I kiss. I remember bits a pieces, small little things, but most of the time my brain goes on auto-pilot. What I _do _remember is these few things.

I remember pushing her up against the wall and kissing her hard. I remember her hands in my hair, the heatedness of her kiss, the urgency of my hands. Music, quietly, matching the rhythm of our mouths.

Then, she stopped.

My eyes met hers. She looked down at her slender hand on my chest, indicating for me to look, too. Her index finger traced the star on the logo on my breast pocket. I pecked her lightly on the lips and moved her hand to the other side. Her delicate fingers slowly traced each white-stitched letter.

_G R I S S O M_

Her eyes met mine, searching for and finding permission. We both tenderly slipped my vest off, letting it fall to the floor in a whoosh of black fabric. The ache was roaring inside of me now, ready to fall over the brim and pour out of me in a rush of unbridled emotion. She could see it welling up inside me, a wave of it behind my eyes.

Her hand slipped inside mine and led me to the bedroom, tugging at my slacks. I tried to keep my mouth on hers for as long as I could, revelling in her taste mixed with the spice and warmth of chai, simultaneously trying not to spill out everything I knew I could not possibly explain to her.

I knew, though, that she understood. Sara didn't need words to know what I was feeling.

I pushed her gently onto our bed and nestled gently between her now bare legs. Her arms reached for my face, but I pinned them against the pillow above her head. Kisses trailed down her cheek and neck, all the way down to her chest.

"Honey," I choked out, not quite thinking straight.

"Shh."

"No, Sara, I--"

"Just make love to me, Gil."

The tears started then, and they didn't subside until we were finished, panting and slick, tangled in sheets and skin. Streaks of salty liquid lay upon both of us, tears of happiness and sadness all in one. I didn't know where my own ended and hers started. I guess that was the beauty of it.

Still inside of her, I let my head fall to her chest. Her fingers ran through my damp curls as sheshhhed me calmly. I was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, physically. But just touching her made me feel re-energized. Safe. Fulfilled.

"Sara?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you."

Her mouth pressed against the top of my head.

"You ready to start packing tomorrow?"

I nodded against her skin.

"Yeah. I think the sooner we leave the better."

"You're sure about all of this?"

"I am."

"You're not doing this for me, are you?" The question caught me off guard.

I looked up at her, leaning up on my forearms. Tear streaked cheeks shone in the afternoon's orange glow.

"Yes."

"Griss, I told you--"

"— Of course I'm doing it for you._ And_ for me. It's time I listened to the voice of logic instead of a textbook."

With a small smile lay her head back on the pillows. I lay back against her chest, still feeling her warmth around me. We stayed like that for a long while. So long, in fact, that I thought she'd fallen asleep.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Finally. It had taken me far too long to say those words. It had taken far too many horrific occasions, far too many lonely nights, far too many longing gazes. I stared across our bedroom, anxiously awaiting her answer, although knowing it would come.

"I love you, too."

Maybe a new chapter would be nice after all. A fresh page is always a beautiful thing. There'd be new mysteries to crack, new adventures to be had, new discoveries to be made. All with Sara. All with us.

As I drifted off to sleep, I realized that leaving CSI was not going to be the worst decision I'd made. Taking so long to get here may have been.


End file.
